Perfect
by nephtys59
Summary: Sequel to Unique. Anybody who looks for perfection is doomed to disappointment. Archer, T'Pol, Meral and T'Noor are searching for their path. This story talks about exploration, but is more an exploration of souls than stars. Chapter 1 is up! Pls review.


Fic title: **Perfect (sequel to "Unique")**

Author: **Nephtys59**

Rating: **T**

Pairing: **A/T friendship, as to romantic pairings there will be some :)**

Summary: **Anybody who looks for perfection is doomed -sooner or later- to disappointment. This story begins after Nikita Parker's death. Archer is struggling to cope with Niki's death and his past in the Delphic Expanse, haunted by strange dreams/sensations, T'Pol is trying to recover her control and be a perfect logic Vulcan, Meral is a "V'tosh ka'tur" who wants to be instead a perfect emotional Vulcan, T'Noor has been traumatized by a violent event. This story talks about exploration, but is more an exploration of souls than stars ...**

Spoilers: **only for those who haven't watched Season 4 yet (and obviously for those who didn't read the previous fic "Unique").**

Disclaimer: **I don't own the Enterprise characters, they belong to Paramount. T'Noor / Meral / Nikita Parker are my characters, I invented them. I make no money off this story.**

Author's notes: **Feedback appreciated. ****Please review!**

o-o-o-o-o

**Chapter 1**

_**Egypt, October 2154**_

Meral was on the sea-shore, sitting in the lotus position, his eyes closed, a look of serenity over his face. Even if he was meditating, he permitted himself to sense the scent and the gentle breeze over his skin, coming from the sea. He was completely naked but he didn't care: the air was warm, tender and dry. It invited to nudity and he sensed it as it was his own skin, so that he couldn't tell where his body ended and the sky began.

He adored the sea … maybe because he came from a planet which was poor in water … or maybe because it summed up –in its simple existence- everything that emotions meant to him.

As hard as he had tried in his whole life, he couldn't understand why Vulcans wanted to live only with their logic and repress all emotions. What meaning had life without emotions? This was totally illogical to him.

He knew about the history of his people … the violence, the wars, the fact it took them almost 1500 years to rebuild their world. But he also knew that there was a way to balance logic and emotions. He had found that way … and he had tried to teach them, to make them understand. His new ideas had been met with skepticism (if not downright resistance). Very few had followed him … and they had paid a high price: the exile from Vulcan. He had been exiled as well.

Never go back home. Never see his family again.

They called him "**V'tosh ka'tur**", Vulcan without logic, as an infamous mark. They didn't even know how far from truth they were.

He remembered well the coldness with which his mother T'Lita had treated him. More than 20 years had passed away, but still he recalled her look of disappointment, her lips sealed in a thin line, the expression lines around her eyes.

His mother was beautiful … each time he looked into the mirror he saw her face reflected in his own features. When, after long wandering from planet to planet, he had chosen Earth as his final residence, he had tried several times to contact her but to no avail. It was as if he didn't exist anymore … deleted … forgotten.

He inhaled deeply and tried to clear his mind and think of nothing, but his mind wasn't obeying. Images from his past returned to sweetly torment him: the face of a woman, haughty and beautiful, her hazel eyes, the delicate shape of her ears … her calm voice.

For he had never forgotten her.

She was a young student then, so self-confident and strong. He felt admiration for her. He wasn't sure about anything but the fact that he loved her. "An illogical emotional attachment" she said. But, when he had experienced the heat of Pon Farr for the first time, she had been there for him. He didn't want any other.

She knew that.

A slight buzz distracted him from his thoughts. He reached out for his communicator and read the message: "Dahab's market. One hour." There was no signature, but he knew who the message was from.

"Sitok" he murmured, a slight smile on his lips "… it's been a long time."

Then he rose to his feet gracefully and walked back home.

o-o-o-o-o

Dahab's market was, in Meral's opinion, one of the most interesting of the whole Red Sea. He entered it eagerly, not at all disturbed by the confusion reigning all around. Everybody seemed to talk at the same time, pedlars and traders, in the most different languages.

He sensed that some people was looking at him with curiosity: it wasn't surprising they hadn't seen Vulcans so often. A true Vulcan wouldn't have ventured gladly into such confusion.

Wandering about the market, he was seized by different fragrances and flavours, from chicken and chick-pea balls, to coffee and narghileh.

As a careful observer, he noticed a shop that was offering something different. Sacks and baskets were arranged tidily outside, filled with herbs and spices of various colours. His curiosity was piqued, and he entered the shop: he felt like he was thrown back in time. History taught that, centuries before, herbs and infusions were used as a remedy for diseases and wounds.

He lingered in front of a basket full of cinnamon, smelling its strong scent. The shopkeeper approached and addressed him in perfect Vulcan: "Cinnamon: it's used as a remedy for colds, fever, abdominal pain and digestive disorders."

Meral looked at him, slightly surprised: "Can you speak my language?"

The shopkeeper bowed his head: "I wouldn't be a good trader if I couldn't speak most possible languages."

Meral objected: "I don't think you have many opportunities to practice your Vulcan."

He answered: "Actually, you're the first Vulcan customer I've ever had."

"I'm not your customer yet. I haven't bought anything and I'm not sure I will."

"Don't underestimate my potential as an expert dealer." he said haughtily.

Meral couldn't help but laugh.

The shopkeeper looked at him in amazement.

"Is there something wrong?" Meral asked smiling.

"No offence, but I never saw a Vulcan laughing."

Meral winked at him and smiled again: "I'm not … a typical Vulcan."

"Well then. I'm sure that … an atypical Vulcan … will appreciate my hospitality and a cup of karkade tea." he said as he gestured at a curtain at the bottom of the shop.

Meral thanked him bowing his head slightly and made his way through the curtain.

He wasn't surprised that the shopkeeper hadn't followed him. Somebody was waiting for him.

"Sitok" he said "What is the excuse for so many precautions?"

"If it wasn't for Soval, who makes them follow you constantly, it wouldn't be necessary to take all these precautions."

Meral sat in front of him and said: "Time has been kind to you. You look like you haven't aged. It's been over 20 years."

"Time has no meaning." was Sitok's comment. "I'm only 150, after all."

"May I inquire why I have the honour of this visit?"

"I need a favour from you."

"The last time I did you a favour, I was exiled from Vulcan." said Meral.

"It's not grudge I feel in your voice, is it?" Sitok teased him.

"Holding grudges is a nonsense. Take revenge or forgive."

"Does that mean that you have forgiven me?" Sitok asked.

"No … it means that I'm not a revengeful person." he said smiling.

Sitok chuckled: "You've changed, Meral. You would have reacted differently, once."

"I wasn't perfect then."

"Perfection doesn't exist, Meral, you know that."

Meral sighed: "I'm sure you didn't come here only for conversation, Sitok."

"I need you to take care of someone."

Meral looked at him questioningly.

Sitok continued: "She's mute, but this is not the worst of her problems."

"A woman?" he asked.

Sitok handed him a PADD. Meral pressed a button and watched a woman, crouched in a corner of the room, trembling and terrified. A Vulcan physician tried to calm her down but she pushed him away with her hands, attempting to beat him if he was too close. Her eyes were an unnatural green, a hue that was in between a dark olive and a polished piece of jade. Her hair was long and blonde and Meral thought at first that she wasn't Vulcan, but then she moved her head and a sharply pointed ear was revealed.

"Her name is T'Noor." Sitok explained "She suffered a trauma and lost control of her emotions. I believe you're the only one who can help her."

"Which kind of trauma are you talking about?"

"We think she's been raped."

o-o-o-o-o

**_Castle Rock State Park, November 2154_**

Archer stretched on the bed, sighing deeply. He was tired, but satisfied with the accomplishment of Niki's project. He had spent the last weeks seeing to it.

Since she had no relatives, she had left him everything. In her Will she had expressed her wish that he kept the house of Castle Rock, while the money had to be used for Rhythmic Gymnastics.

He had accepted, even if that house was full of memories. He had been happy there … but now it was over.

The most important thing was the Rhythmic Gymnastics School, where Niki had taken her first steps when she was a child and then she had achieved the World championship title.

That school, thanks to Niki's legacy and a generous donation by Archer, was named after Nikita Parker now. A short ceremony had been held earlier and a fund had been created for the most promising athlete. He had been moved by all those little girls amazed at Niki's trophies and photo murals.

He was glad that Trip had joined him.

He had come from Florida some days before: his skin was rather tanned and he seemed in a good mood. Archer knew that he was still pining for T'Pol … he had mentioned her a couple of times, but Trip changed the subject quickly. He couldn't blame him … he knew how he felt.

Archer turned on one side, reaching out to pet Porthos, curled up next to him. The little dog sighed in contentment and looked at him adoringly.

T'Pol.

He missed her. Several weeks had passed by and no news from her.

The day after Niki's funeral, she had expressed the intention of staying at the Vulcan Compound for meditation. She hoped -she had explained him- that a prolonged deep meditation would restore her mastery of her emotions.

He hadn't been able to say anything to her, he was too moved to speak.

Now that she finally loved him, he couldn't return that feeling completely. Not while he was still thinking of Niki. He thought ironically that life was strange. He had spent years pining for T'Pol, believing that he had no hope with her. Then he had hurt Niki, unable to give himself completely to her. She thought she couldn't win his heart … and she had, eventually. But it was too late to tell her now … Niki and the baby were lost forever.

An evil destiny seemed to overshadow his love life.

But as a Starfleet Captain, he was lucky. They had given him his ship back and a new mission. Gardner's and Soval's support had been crucial to the Committee's decision. And he knew well that T'Pol had her part in it, too.

In a few days they were going to leave Earth for Tellar Prime, where they had to pick up their ambassador and transport him to a neutral planet called "Babel" where Earth mediators would have tried to settle a long-standing trade dispute between the Tellarites and the Andorians.

He hoped that his job could keep him busy and fill the emptyness inside him.

With all those thoughts swirling in his head, Archer slowly felt his eyes closing and fell asleep.

_Archer opened the door of his house and yelled: "Honey, I'm home!" but nobody answered. He put his bag on the floor and walked up the stairs. He could hear a beautiful voice humming a sweet melody and a baby crying softly. He appeared at the door of the room: Niki was sitting on a chair, gently rocking a baby in her arms. She was smiling her graceful and bright smile, but it faded suddenly to be replaced by a look of absolute terror._

"_Jon!" she cried._

_A Klingon attacked him from behind and forced him on the floor. He was on top of him, hissing words he couldn't understand, his fetid breath on his face. Finally Archer succeeded in knocking the Klingon off and stood up, but his attacker was fast on his feet again and they started fighting again. A huge punch reached Archer's face and he was stunned. The taste of blood filled his mouth and his head was swimming. He could hear Niki screaming but it seemed like her voice came from a great distance. When the dizziness faded away and his vision cleared again, he realized that the Klingon wasn't there anymore._

_Niki's body was on the floor, still holding the baby, her dead eyes staring heavenward. Blood was everywhere._

"_Nooooooo!" he cried._

Archer woke up with a start, still crying … he was covered in cold sweat and his breathing was unsteadied and fast. He sat up in his bed and buried his face in his hands.

"Not again … not again." he murmured.

He glanced at the clock near his bed – 3:00 am.

The door of his room opened and Trip walked in. He looked worried.

"Hey Jon, you ok?" he asked.

Archer couldn't answer, because a wave of nausea came over him and he ran to the bathroom to throw up. A few minutes later he came out, Trip was waiting for him.

"I really think you should see a doctor!"

"I'm ok now." he muttered.

"Com'on Jon, how long can you stand this? You have nightmares every night and nausea and God knows what else!" he said "Not to mention the fact that sometimes you seem out of this world."

"It will pass." he snorted.

"No, it won't." Trip insisted "I've already spoken to Phlox. He's waiting for you at Starfleet Medical and you're gonna have a full check-up, like it or not."

Archer tried to object, but Trip held a hand up: "Ah, ah, no arguments! This time I'm in command." he tried to joke. "We are leaving tomorrow at 7:00. Get some rest … if you can."

"Sorry I woke you up, Trip." he said.

"Nah … don't worry." he smiled and went back to his room.

Archer sighed and decided to take a shower before going back to sleep, hoping it would help him relax.

_**Remember Jon … on Earth, you are mine.**_


End file.
